


Make It Go Boom

by manycoloureddays



Series: Ariadne Inc. [1]
Category: Leverage, Scorpion (TV 2014), The 100 (TV)
Genre: Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 03:08:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3962161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manycoloureddays/pseuds/manycoloureddays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven meets Parker and Happy at a conference for explosions enthusiasts. Clarke never does get her baked goods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make It Go Boom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ms bricolage (onefootforward)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onefootforward/gifts).



“I don’t need any calls from the ER. And I really don’t need any more calls from the police.” Raven rolls her eyes. “Or the Feds!”

“Yes ma’am.” Clarke huffs at that. It’s her version of a slightly offended, mostly fond laugh. It _is_ a business call after all. Apparently insubordination’s frowned upon. “You are the one that booked this, remember? ‘Raven, you’re going to a conference for demolitions experts in October’. Those words, your mouth. I never forget a thing that comes out of it.”

“I know. We just don’t need a repeat of the purple and orange flames that lasted 82 hours, or that time you had to lay low in Rosemount, Minnesota for nearly two months.” Raven shudders. She’d nearly gone out of her mind with boredom. “Ariadne just doesn’t have the insurance to cover it. And Bell reckons we don’t have the money to bail you out. _Which is fucking ridiculous mind you considering the number of times we’ve bailed Octavia out!_ ” The last part clearly directed at their boyfriend, and Clarke’s co-Director of Operations at Ariadne Inc.

“No calls from the Feds, I promise. Just me, and a bunch of other adrenaline junkies geeking out in an auditorium.”

“Good.” And then Clarke’s voice shifts, less head of Ariadne Inc., world leaders in espionage, more awkward but well meaning girlfriend. “Have fun! Make friends! Don’t threaten anyone with your switchblade! Oh, and bring me back a plate of blondies. They had them at the leadership conference in May, and they’re divine!”

Raven shakes her head, grinning. Clarke may be one of the smartest, most ruthless people in the business (she was on several countries’ most wanted lists after all), but the girl had a massive sweet tooth. There was a rumour that she’d almost been caught in Paris in 2015 because she’d stopped off mid getaway for a box of macaroons. That was before she became mostly legit though. And before Monty had decided that, company policy and rules against insubordination be damned, he was going to put trackers in every article of clothing Clarke owned, and every gadget he sent her off with. Everyone was pretty happy with that decision though. It means they never have to worry about one of their fearless leaders leaving without a trace again.

Tucking her phone into her jacket she stalks across the lobby of the convention centre. She groans, scanning the names of on the badges, each one a reminder of why she has never been a willing participant in professional development. Why Clarke and Bellamy had to tag team her. It looks like along with the two speakers, the majority of people in attendance are male. All Ivy League graduates, or military men. She does find the name Happy Quinn on one of the yet to be claimed nametags though. There’ll be at least one explosion aficionado that she actually respects.

“Who’ve we got here?” Raven spins around to see a tall blonde woman inspecting the badge she was sure she still had in her hand. “Raven Reyes? We’ve heard all about you.” She says it in a way that implies knowledge of several things Raven has had erased from public record (she thanks all the gods and angels for Monty Green on a near daily basis). The woman winks conspiratorially before lowering her voice, “I’m not trying to scare her off. I’m _trying_ to tell her I’m impressed.” If Raven didn’t already spend too much time talking to people via comms she would worry the crazy ran deeper than that gleam in the woman’s eyes.

“Yeah, well as nice as it is to be impressive I’d feel a lot more comfortable about the situation if I knew who I was impressing,” Raven crosses her arms and sticks out her chin. A defiant Raven is a formidable Raven.

“Parker,” she says smirking, as if that’s all it takes to illicit a reaction. And, well, she’s not wrong.

“Parker? You’re _the_ Parker?” If Raven was in the habit of getting star struck she would be having a real situation right about now. Parker. _The_ Parker. Impressed. By Raven.

“Yep.” Parker’s grin is all teeth. “That’s me.” And then, as if she hasn’t just repeated the same words every headhunter has thrown at Raven since she’d joined Ariadne, ‘we’ve heard all about you’, Parker turns on her heel and weaves her way back through the crowd.

“Alrighty then.”

 

When the doors finally open Raven dutifully files into the auditorium. Pulling out her tablet – she may as well pass the time constructively – she waits for the seats to fill and the keynote speaker to start saying something interesting (hopefully).

Twenty minutes in and Raven’s tweeting as many honest lecture titles as she can.

_HOW TO BORE A ROOM FULL OF ADRENALINE JUNKIES IN 25 MINS OR MOOOOORE._

_The inane prattling of a wannabe Q. The most redundant discussion of explosives to date._

_We didn’t have enough money to get Quinn up here_. Although if Happy Quinn is anything like Raven she would do it for the free lunch and kudos at this point. When it reaches the half hour mark and he’s still prattling on about things Raven’s known since she was seventeen as if they were innovative she can’t stop herself from scoffing. It earns her a few scandalised looks, but she restrained herself for thirty minutes, and this guy is an idiot. Someone giggles; the happy peals of laughter drawing attention away from Raven and toward the back corner. From where she’s sitting she can just make out Parker’s profile. Smirking, she turns to face the podium, the lecturer has gone bright red, but bravely soldiers on. A few people have responded to her tweets. One of the replies is from @angryquinn.

_considering making this a practical demonstration_

And wouldn’t that be the dream. Now all she could think about was blowing that podium sky high.

_@angryquinn dammit! now all I can think about is blowing that podium sky high._

         Raven turns her head at a huffing sound from three rows back. It sounds like laughter. There’s a woman watching her over her phone screen, smirking. Raven raises an eyebrow, shoving her bag off the seat next to her. She’d wanted to avoid sitting next to pretty much everyone. She can make an exception for @angryquinn. Or Parker. But Parker’s probably the exception to all rules ever, so it’s a moot point. Happy gets up with a roll of her eyes and shuffles along the row. She’s followed by grumbles that she has either elected to ignore, or is allowing to fuel her rage. It’s hard to tell with Happy.

         “Reyes,” she nods as she sits down. “Long time, no see kid.”

         “Yeah, well, I wasn’t allowed to interact with people who would encourage me to… ‘make it go boom’.”

         “Professional lockdown? Yeah, Walt’s done that to me before. Something about working with the government means not blowing things up willy-nilly. Which only seems to be a rule for government contractors, not the government themselves.” She shrugs. “So, scale of 1 to 10, how bored are you?” Before Raven can answer “upwards of 100” Parker chimes in.

         “I’m about to waive my no stabbing Wednesdays rule.” Happy raises an eyebrow, looking impressed.

         “Where did you-? How did I not notice you move?” Raven may not need to be particularly subtle herself, but in her line of work she’s around stealthy people all the time. She’d like to think she doesn’t get caught off guard too often. Parker just smiles and shrugs.

         “I’m a thief.” The slightly terrifying gleam is back in her eyes. “Wanna blow this popsicle stand?” Raven grins back.

         “I thought you’d never ask,” and really, with Happy on board too this is shaping up to be a much more exciting afternoon than Raven had expected. Clarke had wanted her to be professionally developed so surely she couldn’t complain when Raven left early with two of the most successful women in the business. Just to be on the safe side though she’d leave the actual telling the girlfriend/boss til later.

         “I’m in.”

 

 

 

         “You’re sure about this?” Happy asks, looking more than a little concerned. “Because as much as I like an explosion, we can’t just blow up a shop for no reason.”

         “Absolutely sure,” Parker nods. “If Hardison says this is the space being used by that pharmaceutical company to sell drugs to kids, then this is the space being used by that pharmaceutical company to sell drugs to kids.” Raven hates bad guys on principle. All bad guys. If you could be used as a plot device in a superhero film or police procedural chances are Raven hates you. But corporations using _kids_ for their nefarious plots has her seeing red. This particular story makes her think of a much younger Monty and Jasper. The red only intensifies.

         “What’s the plan?” After the afternoon she’s had Happy pulling nearly everything they need to build an explosive device out of her backpack like some alternate universe Mary Poppins, and Parker opening the front door like it wasn’t double bolted should not surprise her.

         “I’m just missing a couple parts,” Happy muses. Scouring the hoard in front of her Raven smirks. Of course she has the missing pieces. She has a feeling that if she ever teamed up with Happy and Parker the line between superhero squad and slightly shady super villains would be blurred permanently.

         “Allow me,” she upends her own bag and the three of them exchange grins. “Let’s make it go boom.”

 

 

        

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is a belated birthday fic for chelsea. it's working title was "awesome ladies blow shit up", and i can only hope it lives up to that.


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